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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514145">Now You See Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen'>WarriorOmen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Historical, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Insecurity, Mutual Exploration, Pining, Pre-Movie, Romance, early years, historical setting, language barriers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:28:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it takes the smallest, most innocuous conversations to say the most. Sometimes, the most random things bring about the best in self-discovery. And sometimes that thing is something as simple as comparing personal differences. Like chest hair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>372</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Now You See Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A light conversation with a friend of mine about Joe’s chest hair vs Nicky’s chest hair (very important and deep discussion I know) spiraled into a complete feels fest. How that happens only the magic of words and thought processes knows.</p><p>As per usual, I really had trouble deciding if this warranted an M or an E rating. I went with E for now, but if it's not considered 'explicit' enough I can lower it. </p><p>If you like to <a href="https://coffeebeannate.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> then come yell at me.</p><p>Self beta'd.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Why will you not turn around properly?"</p><p>It isn't like they've never bathed together before, still new, still barely able to talk to each other beyond short sentences. But Nicolò never turns completely around. Facing away, giving Yusuf a good view of his back-wide shouldered, well muscled, but never facing him.</p><p>"We have the same bodies, overall”. He adds, wondering if it's something about modesty. How did Catholics even treat modesty? Nicolò keeps ignoring him, Yusuf can almost see how stiff his jaw is.</p><p>He leaves it. There's no pushing Nicolò at times. And he’s not one to push boundaries, either.</p><p>---</p><p>Many weeks later, (possibly months, they struggle to recall days) Nicolò dies. It's infuriating and unexpected, and his tunic is so soaked with blood that Yusuf wonders how he's ever going to come back from it. Furiously cutting open the shreds to find the wounds and carefully watch them heal. As if he can't believe it if he doesn't see it happen.</p><p>Later, after Nicolò's awoken and realized he's shirtless, he moves to cover himself, but Yusuf snags his wrist. Stopping him.</p><p>”You just healed, give yourself a minute."</p><p>Nicolò makes an annoyed sound, Yusuf tuts at him, 'I know you're stubborn, but let it be. Your wound was intense. Deep. You took time to come back.” A note of worry etching through his tone.</p><p>However, Nicolò is attempting to curl inward on himself. As if there is more trouble that Yusuf is ignorant of.</p><p>Alarmed, Yusuf puts a hand to his chest, Nicolò hissing at him, trying to bat his hand away, “Are you in pain?"</p><p>"It is not..no, get-" Nicolò sputters at him.</p><p>Nicolò's chest is smooth, so smooth, he knows they've scant years in age between them, but where Yusuf has a fine smattering of hair, Nicolò has none. Nothing like Yusuf has ever seen on a grown man.</p><p> He's fascinated, unbothered-it seems fitting for Nicolò, but the Genovian is muttering the language Yusuf can't understand and..blushing? </p><p>"Wait.." Yusuf blinks, possible realizations dawning. “Is it that you are shy about this? About..your chest?"</p><p>"Shut up.” Nicolò grimaces, "I know it's pathetic.”</p><p>Yusuf tuts again, forcing Nicolò further backwards. "Nonsense. It's very you."</p><p>Nicolò's staring at him, wide eyed and irritated (or fond, all his expressions look so distantly the same to Yusuf sometimes, utterly unreadable). It wasn't like he'd never been above him, before. When their endless stabbing and slicing at one another failed to yield permanent results, they'd switched to a different battle. Frantic, angry rutting that left them both no less sated but much sticker and further annoyed. Breaking apart only to come back again, finding the same release that left them with more questions than answers.</p><p>Since then, they'd been..at ease, as Yusuf may put it, they'd been doing a strange dance. Staring when they didn't mean to. Lingering. Finding comfort. Nicolò had an incredible laugh when he let loose properly, and Yusuf could find himself more prone to excited teachings and navigations. Sometimes sitting closer at night by the fire.</p><p>Yusuf told Nicolò about stars, theories about what might be beyond. Nicolò told him of Saints. Of ideas. Of world promises.</p><p>They both discovered they shared a love of reading. Of theorizing. They'd lost many hours to debating and talking.</p><p>But there is still that shyness to Nicolò, and now, flattened to the ground by Yusuf's hands on the chest he seems to hate so, Yusuf feels a strange, almost serene confidence. Nicolò is relaxing, steadily, the pressure enjoyable to him, it seems? Yusuf, intrigued, shifts, gently patting at Nicolò's legs until the man gets the idea, opening them slightly to let Yusuf slot between them, increasing pressure as he pinned him flatter, tighter.</p><p>Nicolò's eyes flashed, not with hate, but with surprise and curiosity, jaw slackening, blue-green glazing, slowly.</p><p>"You enjoy that" Yusuf said, not really a question. Nicolò turned his head, away from Yusuf's dark gaze, Yusuf fascinated by the movement in his throat.</p><p>”I..think so."</p><p><em> Fascinating. </em>  Yusuf wasn't that baffled. Some men liked that. Being pinned, held down. It could be a thrill or a calm, all depending on the person. Yusuf enjoyed it just as much on occasion. All depended.</p><p>And Nicolò  <em> is </em> calming. Rapidly, going slack beneath Yusuf's grip. He's still got his head turned to the side, so Yusuf decides to keep poking, never one to miss an opportunity to learn something.</p><p>"Why does your chest shame you?" He asks, the blush creeping a fascinating and enticing little path back down Nicolò's cheeks, down his neck. Nicolò's mouth clamped firmly shut. And while Yusuf would never push him, he's curious and weary about halting their progress.</p><p>"Nicolò?"</p><p>"You have chest hair" He finally mumbles, Yusuf forcing himself to swallow a chuckle. "It is more.." He huffs, struggling with the words.</p><p>"Masculine?" Yusuf tries, but he gets an annoyed grunt. “No." So that's not it. He didn’t think it was, truly, but their language barrier could be so difficult, at times. "Warm?" He attempts, earning a snort.</p><p>"Look at. Nice. It is mad." Nicolò struggles to explain.</p><p>Mad..mad..ohh.</p><p>"Attractive?"</p><p>Nicolò turns his head, neck nearly snapping with how fast he turns back to facing Yusuf, blushing harder now.</p><p>So yes.</p><p>"Unfairly so" Nicolò grunts, and now Yusuf truly cannot help but laugh. Amusement catching his body, making him shake against the other. "Unfair? How do you mean?" His tone teasing, merciless.</p><p>"It looks soft." Nicolò sputters, "Soft and warm and..like a good..thing." He bucks, a little, attempting to throw Yusuf off. Which he easily could, that he makes little progress tells Yusuf he's not actually trying.</p><p>Yusuf has never been a dumb man. He is clever, attuned to the world. However, so is Nicolò. There's an almost frightening match between their wits, and Yusuf, already knowing what he's going to find, adjusts himself, scooting up just slightly and swallowing back a little noise when he feels heaviness against his pelvis.</p><p>It's not like before. In that they're not rushing or growling and trying to claw each others’ eyes out while they furiously rut together. Now it's heavy, hot, pushing through clothing and making Nicolò squirm beneath him. Which doesn't help either of them, in the moment.</p><p>"You are strange.” Yusuf says, Nicolò snapping his eyes open, staring at Yusuf like he's grown a second head. "I'm strange?" He chokes, sounding equal parts baffled and amused. "How do you mean? How can you say that when you are the strangest person I've ever met?"</p><p>"Strange to each other, then." Yusuf says, unlatching his hand from where it's been gripping Nicolò's bicep, sliding fingers to the lacing of his own tunic, casual, nothing hurried, but Nicolò's eyes have gone so wide Yusuf can't help but find it somewhat of a victory.</p><p>"Since you seem so interested" He teases, but there's real passion and heat there, real interest. Nicolò's own smoothness such a contrast to himself and Nicolò's reactions are more than enough of an ego boost. “Is this why you'd not turn around when bathing? Not for shame of being naked, but..your chest?"</p><p>It's almost hilarious. It would be hilarious if Nicolò wasn’t looking so wild and unbound beneath him. Limbs relaxed and plaint, comforted by Yusuf's continued weight and pressure, eyes wide enough to be nearly black, a flush coating his cheeks and his hair a splayed mess. Looking at Yusuf as if he's the most incredible thing he's ever seen.</p><p>"How could I not?" He said, Yusuf catching onto how husky and rough his voice has become, "When you have such a canvas to show off?"</p><p>Good grief, and he thought <em> he </em> was the poet.</p><p>Nicolò's eyes are ablaze now, realizing he's caught Yusuf off-guard, his mouth slackens, lip quirking dangerously.</p><p>"I am not the only one affected, hm?" Punctuating the statement with a sudden jerking of his hips that almost does send Yusuf tumbling, only succeeding in earning a stunned gasp.</p><p>"Bastard." Yusuf hisses, his tunic falling from his shoulders, making an attractive little cloud around the waist, trapping his lower arms. Nicolò, apparently entirely unaware of how nervous he'd been earlier, lifting his head up in a sudden surge that catches Yusuf by surprise, pushing his nose straight into the centre of Yusuf's chest, forcing him to find some purchase, hands scrabbling automatically to clutch at the back of Nicolò's neck, holding him flush as he nuzzles at him.</p><p>"All these weeks you kept your back to me for this." Yusuf huffs, somewhere caught between laughing and crying in exasperation. "Truly, Nicolò, you could have asked."</p><p>Nicolò makes a non-committal noise against his chest, seeming like he's unable to do anything besides drink it in. Absorbing the texture against his cheeks, his nose, his lips. Endlessly fascinated, encouraged.</p><p>It's strange, heady, exciting. Yusuf's previous lovers and encounters never seemed that interested, not in his chest anyway. In hurried meetings and bored nights, things tended to stray..much further south, and much faster, to boot. Nicolò, apparently, is so completely taken, fascinated, and so enticed that he's in no hurry to move away from the canvas on display before him. And Yusuf, using very great amounts of willpower, his own breathing getting hitched, trousers more than uncomfortable now, has too grip Nicolò's neck more than twice to get him to move his face away.</p><p>"I am not complaining, you know.” Yusuf's words coming out in a rush, “But, what..why this?”</p><p><em> Really,</em> Yusuf thinks, it is just a chest.</p><p>Nicolò seems a little baffled, but then clarity returns, realizing that no, Yusuf can't read his mind.</p><p>"It is not just your chest" Nicolò seems amazed he's even thought that. "You're attractive, Yusuf. It might..I never thought that you were not so, but it was never really something I had focused on, before. But now..we are different, yes?"</p><p>The words have Yusuf caught off-guard yet again, once more feeling unbalanced. He's not ignorant. He knows he's been watching Nicolò more intently over the weeks. That their routine has become comfortable. That he enjoys spending time with him. Delighting when he can coax real and genuine emotions out of the closed off and reserved Genovian man. And he knows that there's a warmth in his chest when he thinks of him that he's been stoking, trying to not get too hopeful for.</p><p>But to have it heard back, confirmed, even, by a man who always seems so distant and unreachable, a gap they just can't seem to close, speaking of him as if it should have been obvious how much he's enthralled. Well. Yusuf can scarcely breathe for it.</p><p>Something flickers across Nicolò's face, and he's drawing back, and Yusuf certainly cannot have that. Pulling on Nicolò's neck, it's an easy grip to force his head up more, to bring them nose to nose.</p><p>"You <em> foolish man </em>" Yusuf's laughing, but Nicolò's flash of panic across his eyes forces him onward, "Keeping such feelings to yourself, all these months."</p><p>Nicolò opens his mouth-clearly ready to offer some inane excuse or placation, and Yusuf takes great delight in replacing it with his own, further delighting in the startled squeak-like noise he gets in return.</p><p>Nicolò, as he probably should have expected, is merciless once allowed permission to do something. He squirms against Yusuf, their bodies slotted awkwardly, but not unpleasantly, Yusuf gradually opening up to him, humming in pleasure when that same slackness that had overtaken Nicolò before returns, only now taking his lips, letting Yusuf in and in.</p><p>Inspired, Yusuf shifts his hand down, gripping Nicolò's wrist as they kiss, bringing his palm to his chest. Wordless encouragement that clever Nicolò wastes no time in adapting too. A surprised, pleased muffled moan flowing from him, into Yusuf as he palms at his chest, running happy, excited fingers over hair and muscle, drawing himself even closer, shifting. Like he can't get enough.</p><p>When his fingers finally flex, curl and pull, Yusuf moans, thrums of pleasure lighting a furious spark path up his spinal column. Holding him fast and steady.</p><p>He needs oxygen, Nicolò needs oxygen, they conclude at the same moment. But Nicolò's brain is working faster, making the most peculiar little noises as he shifts them, encouraging Yusuf down, effectively flipping their earlier positions. Yusuf lets him, happily, delighting in how Nicolò's second hand comes to join the first, and his face, until the entire expanse of Yusuf's chest is somehow covered by Nicolò.</p><p>Hands, cheeks, nose, all petting and nuzzling in turn, Yusuf letting himself ride it out, dazing in the sensations that are as comforting as they are thrilling. And it's not until many moments in that Yusuf registers Nicolò is talking.</p><p>"What?" He asks, a little incoherently. "What are you saying?"</p><p>"That you are beautiful" Nicolò mumbles, half-buried in Yusuf's chest, finally collecting himself, having his fill for the moment, resting until he's half-way up Yusuf's body, curled into him. Amazingly, their both still hard, but unhurried about it. Yusuf finding some purchase in the fine hairs at the back of Nicolò's neck, where it goes all soft and wispy where it'd finished growing.</p><p>The contented hum he receives creates a vice around Yusuf's heart, warm, secure, branding him. It should frighten him. It should make him push Nicolò away, lest he fall to deep, but as if reading his mind, Nicolò clings to him, tight fingers in skin and gripping legs, pushing himself down and holding fast.</p><p>Yusuf threads his hair in apology, reassuring him even if he's not certain Nicolò did not read his mind. But stranger things were afoot these days. Who could say?</p><p>"So beautiful”. Nicolò continues, once reassured, “I have seen beautiful men. Before. I have slept with beautiful men. Or, well what I could make out, of their faces..”</p><p>That makes Yusuf's head turn, confused, "Nighttime?"</p><p>Nicolò sighs. "Partially. Sometimes, they'd not wish to look-not too much. Sex happens, but you're not supposed to. Not before marriage. Circumstances. You want it, in the moment..you want it so bad you can hardly breathe. Angry, annoyed. Full of desires you can't pindown and beliefs that conflict. People like people. People discover how to comfort themselves years before they find others. But sometimes you want more..you want the.."</p><p>“Connection” Yusuf finishes, Nicolò humming, agreeing. “People are going to be drawn to each other. Bodies are going to follow. Excitement. Desperation. But there's all those voices at the back, the ones that remind you it's supposed to be sacred, that loving someone in a bodily way is supposed to be reserved, and maybe telling yourself if you don't look the person  in the eye, if you can't recall their face in detail, you can feel less guilty later that you ignored serving God in favour of brief, personal pleasure.”</p><p>Yusuf's fingers have trailed down, it seemed exhausting, thinking that way. Nicolò leaning eagerly into the dance across his spine, his back. "And you.?"</p><p>"I am only a man, Yusuf, but I..I never want to look away, not from you. I want to know your face intimately. I want to..I want you with a ferocity of something I've never felt. It's more powerful than anything. More intense than any desire. Any drive I may have had. When I close my eyes, it's your face I want to see. I want to know every line, every scar. I want to see that deep brown gaze until I've drowned in it. You..I could never be ashamed. Not of you."</p><p>Yusuf is rarely speechless. Rarely is he rendered so.</p><p>It's the most Nicolò has said in a single moment since they'd stopped fighting. They'd talk for hours yes, but Nicolò tended to take breaks. Here, he's so impassioned, so secure in what he says, that Yusuf knows he believes it with his entire being. His whole heart. </p><p>"Nicolò.."</p><p>Nicolò's blushing again, it's the most thrilling thing Yusuf has ever laid his eyes on. Waiting with bated breath, "If your silences have been building to this, then for sure, I must be such a lucky man."</p><p>Nicolò swallows, Yusuf pushes at him, patting his back until Nicolò gets the hint, going slack so Yusuf can turn him, until their side-by-side, face to face.</p><p>"You think <em> I </em> to be the only beautiful one?" His fingers trailing, contrasting with the pale cheek below them. Heated by the blush. "When you look at me this way? When you keep a respectable distance in the water, and it's all I can do not to stare? To come closer and lick the droplets from your back? The muscles in your shoulders, flexing with movement and begging for me to discover them? To map them? To shape them?"</p><p>Nicolò's breath hitches, 'Yusuf, you-"</p><p>"I" Yusuf agrees, 'I who is driven to madness by you. I, who could cross an earth twice over long as it meant you by my side. You say of yourself, “I am only a man, Yusuf', and it shocks me in how it is true. At these days..this.." He frowns, "Undetermined fate, that we are just men. But, Nicolò, I could be a man alone, but a King at your side."</p><p>Nicolò hitches, jerks. Yusuf knows him to be a serious person. He knows how Nicolò may joke, but when he has a belief, a desire, he is nothing but frighteningly intense. And Yusuf knows his words have struck a chord, have rooted in him. And he knows that he could ask this at any point in time to come in the future and he'd be quoted back verbatim. </p><p>They've made a choice, it's clear to them both. Nothing will ever be the same. </p><p>Fate made this. And it was high time they stopped denying it as such.</p><p>"Your honesty is devastating" Nicolò says, as if he's trying with one shred of defiance to hold onto some thread of control. As if he himself had not been throwing splinters of that same honesty into Yusuf's heart only moments before.</p><p>"As yours." Yusuf says, "Maybe that is the point, no? We were brought into this, together. What good has come of ignoring our hearts, Nicolò?"</p><p>Nicolò clutches to him, his fingers digging so deep into Yusuf's bare arms they nearly hurt. Yusuf would never move him even if it did. "None, Yusuf." It's nearly a whisper, "But what if-"</p><p>"What if what if?" Yusuf asks, pulling on his waist, forcing them chest to chest. Nicolò's still covered in dried blood, only in his shoes and trousers, Yusuf in more clothing but with his shirt still bunched around his waist, ridiculous and perfect.</p><p>"Many men have asked that, Nicolò." Yusuf continues. "What if has no answer. Loving you does."</p><p>Nicolò wails. I's not loud, and it's not desperate. It's a crack in thunder, a bolt of lightning finding purchase, grasping and gripping, forcing himself to Yusuf and dragging him into a kiss far more desperate than the first. There is no tears, for all the noises he's making, but Yusuf wonders if it's more shock than lack of emotion.</p><p>Yusuf wishes he could make it nicer. Cleaner. There are ways to treat Nicolò in the manner that he's deserving of. But both of them are flayed, open, raw, and everything is blurred, dizzying and confusing. Yusuf's heartbeat flooding his own ears, only distantly aware of his limbs moving until he's crossed his fingers with Nicolò's where they're both trying so desperately to get freed from clothing. A mess of tearing, kicking and squirming, the ground solid, but hardly fanciful.</p><p>The suns low overhead, the breeze picking up where it knows it'll have more freedom in the upcoming evening. Yusuf only driven back to reality to find that he's flushed up against Nicolò, naked now, them both, Nicolò gripping them both in a desperate hand and staring at Yusuf with questioning eyes. Waiting with thinly veiled but unbroken patience to get back to the same playing field as him.</p><p>Yusuf feels momentary shame, reassuring him with another kiss-more tugging and pulling of lips with his teeth than actual kissing, letting his hand trail where he can grip Nicolò's hip, dragging him closer, starting with low, slow rolls that hurt, slightly. Nicolò's palm is dry and calloused, and his grip is too tight. When Yusuf mutters at him, he apologizes, hastily, slackening slightly.</p><p>It's only so rough at first, bordering painful, and yet it's perfect. Yusuf rolling his hips, thumbing and digging at Nicolò's to keep him steady, encouraging him, watching his face. How his gaze turns from intense concentration as slickness builds between them, easing the former dryness. Alleviating some of the discomfort.</p><p>"You..deserve to be treated better, than this.” Yusuf mutters, “Better than those battlefield ruts."</p><p>"Later" Nicolò promises. “Later we'll find out..we'll..your eyes are so dark, we'll see. We'll take our time. I want to see you fall apart in my hands."</p><p>"I want to hear you." Yusuf tacks on, continuing Nicolò's narrative with his own, breathing unsteady as they get closer, "Your mouth, now, your lips are trembling."</p><p>"Your curls are getting sweaty" Nicolò panted, “I want to bury my nose in them, you smell so rich, intoxicating, Yusuf-"</p><p>"Later" Echoing Nicolò's own promise, “Later, Nicolò, just-“</p><p>"Yes, yes..you.." Nicolò flicks his wrist, shifts the angle just so, and they both freeze, bunch, tense. Yusuf grunts as Nicolò moans, trembling against each other, Nicolò twisting his head into the space between Yusuf's neck and shoulder, Yusuf clutching at him, coaxing them.</p><p>When they can both see clearly again, Nicolò's a mess. Blood sweat and release soaking his chest. Yusuf looks only marginally better, (he's free of blood), and he can't quite supress a fond chuckle when he laps at the beads of sweat dotting Nicolò's neck. Making him shudder.</p><p>They're quiet as they stand, Yusuf wordlessly guiding Nicolò to the streambed. It's not large, and the water has questionable elements. But they both go in willingly. Yusuf fussing until he's got Nicolò facing him. Finally. After all that time. He only pauses a moment to find his shirt, abandoned on the land a few feet behind themselves, soaking it in the water and bunching it up, wiping at the blood and mess on Nicolò's chest. Scrubbing and scrubbing. With care, with love, relishing in the way the skin becomes more and more revealed to himself. To his eyes that have longed to see it.</p><p>Eyes that are now allowed to do just that, Nicolò staring at him, all soft and serene. Like he can't quite believe that Yusuf is so charmed. So content.</p><p>Yusuf places a kiss to it, molding slightly wet lips to the area where he knows his heart to lay, Nicolò's hands finding a residence in his own hair, digging into his curls, holding him close, giving him permission, and knowing he'll never hide from him again, that when they are together, Nicolò will want nothing more to be completely seen. Open. Exposed. Laid out before Yusuf for him to know, to love, and adore.</p><p>Yusuf feels the same, and when he lifts his head and they come back together, fingers lacing in the space between their chests, foreheads pressed, drinking each other in, Yusuf knows he feels the same.</p><p>To be seen by ones love is to feel no shame.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Funny how the most random topics spiral into some of the deepest. Special thanks to my friend, for the inspiration, encouragement and excited screaming. And thanks to all for reading! Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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